


(Not) Like Kirk Would Have Done

by misura



Category: Primeval
Genre: Community: hc_bingo, Hazing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Canon, University, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-26
Updated: 2010-06-26
Packaged: 2017-10-28 14:10:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Connor Temple considered the current state of his life and decided that it rather sucked.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	(Not) Like Kirk Would Have Done

Connor Temple considered the current state of his life and decided that it rather sucked.

Item the first: yesterday's seminar. Which was, okay, maybe it was silly to list that first, because sure, he was a student and all that - eager to learn - but it wasn't as if there wasn't anything more to his life than his study. (Well, unless you looked at it in a certain way, like with brutal honesty, which Connor didn't.)

He'd been looking forward to it, honestly he had. Professor Cutter was supposed to be pretty hip - a bit odd, but the _right_ kind of odd, not the kind of odd like Professor Fitzpatrick, who wouldn't have admitted the possibility of aliens being real even if they'd landed on his lawn and taken him for a ride in their spaceship (which would have been a tragic waste, really, because hel-lo, eager passenger living only a few blocks away).

Item the second: tomorrow's hang-over. It would be bad, Connor knew. And of course Tom and Duncan were going to come over to his room first thing in the morning to talk some more about how they weren't talking to him simply because he wanted to meet some new people (specifically: girls).

Admittedly, normally Connor would have scorned the company of people who thought a man's worth depended largely on the number of drinks he could pour down his throat before passing out, but eh, sometimes, a man had to do what a man had to do.

One of these days, when they'd reached his level of maturity, they might understand. (He hadn't yet decided whether to be sympathetic and understanding and talking nice and soft at that time, or to do unto them as they were probably going to do unto him, revenge being a dish best served cold and all that.)

Item the third: tonight's - well. It wasn't _that_ bad, really; he'd heard stories about hazings being much worse, with people needing to go to the hospital and staying there for a week - or forever. He'd read fanfic, with Kirk ( _Kirk_ ) getting absolutely knackered and needing the loving administrations of McCoy to get well again. (Some people cast Spock in that role, of course, or Uhura, but Connor didn't really buy Vulcans having some sort of magical healing powers and Uhura was sacred, as far as Connor was concerned; the perfect woman and not to be sullied by being turned into a glorified sexual object.)

Connor was no Kirk. Also, he was fairly sure that Kirk wouldn't have put up with the pink underwear. He might have been caught running around the halls of Starfleet Academy dressed only in underwear, but it would have been his _own_ underwear.

And he'd have looked _good_ in it.

And he wouldn't have actually _bumped_ into anyone.

"Sorry, didn't see you there." And if he had, they wouldn't have apologized. They'd have been struck dumb by the sight of him or something like that - or maybe they'd have been McCoy, come to look for his friend. Too bad Tom and Duncan were too busy being all _disapproving_ to do something like that.

Connor thought he might have forgiven them a _lot_ if they'd come to pick him and brought along some actual clothes. Not the 'borrowing' (and subsequent breaking) of his favorite mug, perhaps, but still a lot - like always making him pay for the pizza, maybe.

" 's okay," Connor mumbled. He felt like he might throw up. Clearly his stomach didn't like it when he bumped into people any better than the rest of him did.

"Hey, are you all right?"

Connor blearily lifted his head and noticed just whom he'd bumped into for the first time.

"You didn't come." Possibly, it would serve Professor Cutter exactly right if Connor were to throw up all over his shirt. "I waited for _hours_." Well, more like fifteen minutes, actually, because then someone had come and told them the professor wouldn't be able to make it, but even so.

"Something I should know about, Cutter?" Up close, Stephen Hart was still as good-looking as people said he was. Unfair, really; some guys simply had all the luck. Connor bet _Stephen_ had never walked around wearing pink underwear just to get a chance to maybe impress a girl.

Cutter frowned and looked at Connor as if trying to remember him. Connor pettily kept his mouth shut. His legs felt a little wobbly, so it was probably a good thing he was leaning against a nice, solid wall.

"Oh, yeah." Cutter turned to Stephen. "Shagged him last week, forgot to tell you."

Connor sputtered. Stephen seemed to think that was funny, which was - okay, given the stories he'd heard about the man, that was probably better than having him get angry.

"Look, kid, I have never seen you before in my life. So what are you going on about?" At least they hadn't mentioned the pink underwear. That would have been kind of embarrassing. "And what are you _wearing_?"

Stephen stepped in before Connor could voice his righteous anger at having been denied an education. "I told you to go do that seminar. The university - "

"The university can go screw itself," Cutter snapped. "Did they ask me if I even _wanted_ to do that seminar?"

"As I recall - "

"They didn't say 'please'," Cutter said. "And I was busy. That fossil they found - "

" - wasn't going anywhere." Stephen raised his hands. "Look, if you didn't want to do it, fine. You could have canceled - you know, be _polite_."

"Um," Connor said. He'd thought he'd been beginning to feel better, honestly he had.

"Being polite really isn't my strong suit." Cutter started to look a little amused though, like he knew Stephen wasn't _really_ going to give him much of a hard time about having completely ruined Connor's Thursday morning.

Connor would have liked to claim it was the injustice of it all that made him feel the way he did. "Professor."

"I could have done it." Stephen looked resigned, like this was an old argument.

Connor breathed in. It wasn't normally something he was aware of, much, only this time, it felt like rather an accomplishment. "I'm really not feeling very well."

He might have at least remained standing, Connor reckoned, if only the floor hadn't chosen that exact moment to move. Inconsiderate things, floors were. They had that in common with Cutter, he supposed. You counted on them for something perfectly logical and reasonable, and then they let you down and ruined your day.

 

When Connor woke up - or would have woken up, if he'd been asleep, which he was reasonably sure he hadn't been - he was lying in someone's bed, in what he assumed to be someone's bedroom, by virtue of it being a room with a bed in it.

His head hurt. "Hello?" His throat kind of hurt, too. Made his voice come out all funny. His stomach felt fine, though, so there was that.

Just as he was about to call again, he heard voices coming from outside.

" - not going anywhere." That sounded like Cutter, with the accent and all. "What were you thinking, Stephen? What, now I _owe_ people who were stupid enough to sign up for a seminar I never agreed to give?"

"Not like he knew that, is it?" Which meant that was probably Stephen, and that either the two of them were working really late, or that the rumor that they were 'like that' was actually true, in which case Connor now had the means to eliminate Stephen once and for all from the list of 'people girls want to go out with more than they want to go out with me'. "Be reasonable, Cutter."

"Don't you tell me to be reasonable. You brought him here, so you can damn well take care of him. I'm going home. You can just stay here by your lonesome self."

Stephen said something too low for Connor to overhear. Whatever it had been seemed to have kept Cutter from leaving just yet, though.

"Don't - Stephen!" Connor winced at the sound of something falling over.

Stephen again. Connor almost wanted to yell at him to speak up already, when the reality of the situation hit him. They - Cutter and Stephen - were right outside this room. Arguing at first, possibly about him, but by now, he didn't think they were arguing anymore.

"You are such a bad influence on me," Cutter said, but even through the door he sounded like he didn't quite mean it, like he was bit too _distracted_ to quite mean it.

Connor's imagination provided him with some ideas as to what Cutter might be finding so distracting. It was a bit unsettling; he'd never really thought about anyone he actually _knew_ in that way - although of course, it wasn't as if he actually _knew_ either Cutter or Stephen. Still, they were _real people_ , not like Kirk and McCoy, who were okay to fantasize about, because they weren't.

He wondered if he could blame the fact that he had drunk too much for being rather turned on by the idea of Cutter and Stephen getting up, close and personal with one another. He told himself, it was still only a _fantasy_. Not like he was _watching_ , or anything.

Not like he needed to be, what with his hearing it all rather well. Of course, when Cutter moaned, it could mean _anything_. Could be he'd just slipped or something and had Stephen apply first aid or some such thing. Blowjob, maybe.

Connor bit his lips. If he could hear _them_ , it stood to reason they'd hear _him_ , too, and all things considered, being caught with his hands stuffed down the proverbial cookiejar (well, his own pants, actually, so honestly, what business of anyone else was it what he did in there?) probably wasn't such a good idea. For one thing, it'd probably make Cutter and Stephen stop what they were doing.

For another thing, Stephen might kill him. A man who habitually wrestled anacondas probably wouldn't find Connor much of a challenge. Plus, Connor reasoned, Stephen _had_ kind of rescued him. Wouldn't be nice to spoil his fun now, would it? Better to keep quiet, enjoy the moment. Quietly.

After what felt like rather a long time, Cutter cried out something that might have been Stephen's name, disguised by a very thick accent. Stephen murmured something again. Maybe he was too cool to get loud during sex, or maybe he was just waiting his turn. In that second case, Connor thought he might be in trouble. A man could only take so much before he felt obliged to make a bit of noise himself, regardless of who might hear him.

"Shower?"

Connor liked that idea. A shower would hopefully mean they'd go somewhere Connor wouldn't hear them, and they wouldn't hear Connor either. That would be good.

"Give me a moment, will you?"

"Sure," Stephen said. "Why don't I go check on our guest, make sure he's still breathing and all that?"

Connor froze.

"I'd forgotten about him." Cutter didn't sound like he was too pleased at the reminder.

"Really."

Connor stared at the door as it was opened. The smart thing to have done, obviously, would have been to fake sleep or unconsciousness. Rolled up on his side, covered by the blankets, Stephen was hardly likely to have noticed a thing.

As things were, Stephen was hardly likely _not_ to notice that yes, Connor was still breathing. And all that, and maybe a bit more.

Stephen stared. His expression was unreadable; he did look a bit flushed, but given what he'd just been doing, that didn't mean anything - or at least, it didn't mean he was considering where to dump Connor's body.

Connor smiled in what he hoped to be a harmless manner, neither threatening nor judging nor at all aware of the meaning of the sounds he'd just heard.

"Something wrong?" Cutter asked.

"No." Stephen cleared his throat. "Still sound asleep." Connor bobbed his head emphatically. "Looks like he'll be fine."

"Good. I'm happy for you."

"Yeah." Stephen closed the door, leaving Connor to wonder what had just happened. "So, you ready for that shower now?"


End file.
